


Pilgrimage Road

by aflyingcontradiction



Category: Original Work
Genre: Child Abuse, Friendship, Gen, Pregnancy, Religion, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 15:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12390927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aflyingcontradiction/pseuds/aflyingcontradiction
Summary: A young girl, a pregnant woman and a prostitute, each running from their own horrors, meet on the road. But is it merely chance that brings them together? Or do the bloody footprints on the path have something to do with it?Inspired by the song "Pilgrimage Road" by Allison Lonsdale.





	Pilgrimage Road

Sima took a deep breath. The air smelled sweet like hay and freedom and cold like early dawn and fear. 

“I’m not scared,” she muttered to herself. “Everything is fine. I’m fine.” 

She didn’t feel fine, though. She felt a dull ache in her whole body. Random spikes of agony were shooting up from her back where her father had taken a belt to her again last night and from her naked feet that weren’t used to walking for hours along a hard dirt road. She felt the hunger in her stomach growing stronger by the minute, reminding her that she had no idea where her next meal would come from. She felt the cold of an autumn morning creeping beneath her thin dress and she felt her heart beating in her throat, as she kept walking further and further away from the only home she had ever known in her life. She was feeling enough different things to make her head spin, but not a single one of them was ‘fine’.

Sima had been walking for hours and hours with no clue where she was going. She had never made any plans. After her father had left her on the floor, sobbing and bleeding, she had waited for a moment until she could hear him snoring in his bed, then she had simply walked out the door and kept walking. 

She had walked all the way to the fields just outside the town until her tears had dried up, then she had turned to head back home before her father woke up. But a little voice in her head had whispered: “Next time he’ll kill you” and she had simply turned back around and kept on walking.

The sun had only just come up properly. The birds were singing, a soft wind was making the orange leaves rustle gently. Everything was peaceful. Sima just wanted to scream. But she barely had enough air in her lungs to keep breathing. Exhausted, she sank down next to a tree at the side of the road.

Sima looked back to where she had come from. There were bloody footprints in the dust. She touched her feet very gingerly and winced in pain. Her fingers felt wet with blood. How on earth was she going to keep walking like this? At most, she could make it back home. Maybe. Even if she made it, her father would probably beat her to death, like he had sworn he would so many times. And nobody would stop him. Nobody ever had. A howl of raw pain was scratching at Sima’s throat. She quickly swallowed it down and turned her head away from home. 

Maybe she could make it to the next town, wherever that was. She had no idea how far that would be. Nobody ever went this way to trade. She certainly couldn’t see any signs of a settlement. What was she going to do once she got there anyway? Beg? She wasn’t good for anything, after all. She was clumsy and useless and all she could do was waste food and water and space. But what was the point of thinking about that now? She’d never make it there on her bleeding feet. Those footprints looked like she was about to bleed out through her soles. 

It took Sima a moment to realise something was odd. Those bloody footprints she was staring at couldn’t be hers! Sure, they looked just like the ones she had left between home and this tree, but she hadn’t made it any further. She would know. Every step was agony, she wouldn’t be forgetting a single one of them anytime soon. But those footprints - they stretched out all the way to the horizon. 

Slowly, using the tree to steady herself, Sima got up and stepped on the first of the bloody footprints. The blood felt wet. Whoever had left those prints that looked so much like hers couldn’t be that far ahead. There was someone else travelling this road who must be just as miserable as her. Maybe that other miserable person would know where they were going, though. 

Sima stumbled on, step by agonising step, keeping her eyes glued to the bloody footprints. Maybe if she didn’t look at the horizon, it wouldn’t seem so far away and this road wouldn’t feel so very, very empty. 

It seemed to work for a while. Or maybe she was just too distracted by the haze of pain, hunger and sadness to pay attention to her surroundings. When Sima reached a fork in the road, it felt as though she had run head-first into a wall. She stumbled backwards and woke from her trance with a “Huh?” 

How long had she been walking? The sun was high in the sky now, gently warming her back. She looked over her shoulder, but the tree by which she had rested was nowhere to be seen.  
Looking ahead, she saw that the footprints continued along one path that seemed to be leading to a forest. The other path looked just like the one she had come from, except for the blue figure sitting on the grass by its side, taking dainty bites out of what looked like a large piece of cheese.

“Food!”

The blue figure looked up. It was a woman. She was draped in a flowing blue scarf that fell from the top of her head all the way to her toes. Sima guessed the woman had to be in her twenties, though her face looked oddly old. As the woman got up, slowly and gingerly, using a walking stick to prop herself up, Sima realised she was pregnant.

“Sorry,” said Sima. “I didn’t mean to make you move.”

The woman made a step toward her. 

“Please. I’ll be right along this way, you don’t need to bother,” said Sima and was just about to turn and walk toward the forest, when the pregnant woman shouted: “No! Please! Don’t leave!”

Sima turned back.

“Please! I haven’t talked to another human being in a week. Sit with me. Just for a moment. I’ve got food! You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“Gods, yes!” Sima practically shouted. She hadn’t wanted to but she was starving. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Sit. I’ve got bread, cheese, sausages, dried fruit …” 

The woman pulled each of these delicacies out of her bag as she mentioned them and soon the grass around her was covered in food and Sima could barely keep her mouth from watering.

She swallowed hard and asked: “Are you some sort of good spirit? … Wait, did I die?”

The woman laughed. Sima had been laughed at a lot in her life. By the other children for how ragged her clothes looked, by her father when she stumbled and fell and he was in a good enough mood not to drag her to her feet and slap her … but nobody’s laugh had ever sounded quite so sweet.

“Oh, no, trust me, I’m as human as they come and you’re very much alive - you look dead on your feet, though. You should really sit and eat.”

Sima’s brain was still trying to come to terms with her sudden luck but her body had taken the reins and the next she knew she was sitting on the grass next to the pregnant woman and was halfway through a large sausage. 

“Well, you do seem hungry,” laughed the woman.

Sima could feel the colour rise up in her cheeks: “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a pig.”

“Don’t be silly, you look like you haven’t eaten in a day.”

“Two actually,” said Sima and took another bite of the sausage. She had dropped a plate with her father’s meal on it and he decided if he had to go eat at the inn, she wouldn’t eat at all.

The woman gave her a concerned look. “I’m glad we met then. I’m Gabrielle, by the way.”

“I’m Sima.” 

“Oh, that’s pretty! So, where are you headed, Sima?”

Sima looked up and waved vaguely in the direction of the bloody footprints, then shrugged: “I don’t really know.”

“Hah, that makes two of us.”

The woman was playing with the ends of her long scarf. The dress she wore underneath it had a beautiful embroidered rose pattern. Sima had never seen anything quite like it. The woman had to be very rich. But then why was she travelling all alone on foot just like Sima?

“Gabrielle?”

“Yes?”

“Is it … can I … may I ask you something?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“I don’t mean to offend, but how come you’re travelling in … well … in your state. Where I come from, when a woman is this far along, she doesn’t leave home anymore.”

Gabrielle didn’t stop smiling but it suddenly looked sad: “It’s the same where I’m from. But you can’t stay at home if you don’t have one, I suppose.”

It took Sima a moment to understand what Gabrielle was saying.

“You’re homeless? But …” Sima gestured at the food. “If you can buy all that…”

“Oh, I have money. My family weren’t monsters. They disowned me, but they didn’t want me to die out here. Oh, no, really, there’s no need to look at me like that.”

Sima realised her brow was furrowed with concern. Who would kick a heavily pregnant woman out of her home? Even Sima’s father wouldn’t have…

“No, really. They had to. You see…”

Gabrielle turned her face away from Sima, so it was half-hidden behind her veil. 

“Well, I might as well admit it. I don’t want you coming away with the wrong idea. I wasn’t married,” Gabrielle pulled her veil even further into her face as she spoke, “so I was kicked out of town when I started to show. I’ve been trying to find a place to stay ever since, but nobody wants me. And,” she sighed, “this place is deserted anyway. I’m glad I bought as much food as I did or I’d be out of luck. I haven’t found another town in a week! Not even a lonely farmhouse. Nothing.”

“There’s a town just a few hours down that road,” said Sima. Of course, her town wasn’t exactly fond of unmarried mothers either, but maybe they could be swayed by money and if they were, Gabrielle wouldn’t have to keep travelling into the unknown.

“Isn’t that where you came from?” asked Gabrielle.

Sima nodded.

“I don’t want to go anywhere where they would do that to a lovely girl like you.” 

“Do what?”

“Have you looked at yourself? Your eye’s all swollen and there’s bloodstains on your dress.” 

“Oh. That. That wasn’t the town. That was just my father. He was mad at me.”

“Well, if nobody bothered to stop him, then it’s not the place I want to raise my child! I’ll just keep travelling. I could tag along with you for a while if you’ll let me.” Gabrielle flashed Sima a hopeful smile, half-hidden behind the blue.

“But I don’t know where I’m going.”

“We could both use the company.”

“But your child…”

“And if we travel together, it will be safer. I’ve been terrified at night. I’ve thought for sure the witch of many mouths would come and devour me.”

“Oh, they have that story in your town, too?” asked Sima, briefly distracted from her concern about Gabrielle. 

Sima could still remember when she had first heard about the witch of many mouths, gobbling up lonely travellers, especially women, who were on the road at night. She had been about six or seven. She hadn’t yet learned not to ask her father questions, so she had gone to him and asked him whether that was the reason she was never allowed to play with the other children on the fields outside of town. He had thrown a plate at her and told her she wasn’t allowed to play with the other children because she was a stupid disgrace and they wouldn’t want her anyway.

“It’s not just a story. I know people who have seen her!” said Gabrielle.

“Seriously?” asked Sima, trying to keep the disbelief out of her voice. She didn’t want to insult the hand that fed her, after all. But it did seem a little unbelievable.

“Yes. She looks horrifying! She has hundreds of heads and each of them has a huge mouth with teeth as sharp as daggers and when she sees a lonely traveller, she walks up to them really slowly, but if they try to run, they find they can’t and then...”

“No!” Sima had not meant to shout at all and immediately regretted it, as Gabrielle flinched.  
“Sorry…”

“Oh no, did I scare you? I didn’t mean to! I’m sure we will be fine. I haven’t seen her so far! And they say she only eats people on the open road anyway and that,” Gabrielle pointed at the forest in the distance, “doesn’t look like open road to me. That’s where you were going, wasn’t it?”

Sima nodded. “I was following those footprints. I thought that maybe …” She had thought that maybe those footprints were Gabrielle’s, but on second thought that made no sense at all. Gabrielle was sitting here and those footprints were headed straight into the forest and besides, Gabrielle was wearing sturdy leather boots.

Gabrielle frowned at the footprints for a moment, scanning the path that Sima had come from, where there were now two sets of bloody prints in the dust. She gasped: “Oh dear, your feet! Let me have a look!”

Before Sima could object, Gabrielle had pulled what looked like an embroidered handkerchief out from beneath her scarf, had poured some water over it and was starting to dab at Sima’s feet. She had never even met anyone who owned a proper handkerchief, nevermind an embroidered one, and now this woman was using it to clean her filthy feet.

“Oh, don’t,” Sima pleaded.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No, but your handkerchief is going to get all dirty.”

“Oh, nonsense.” Gabrielle stared at Sima’s feet for a moment. “That looks like it hurts.”

“It does a little,” Sima admitted, “but I’ll be fine. Really, you don’t need to …”

“Oh, yes, I do need to. If we want to travel together, you’ll have to be able to walk and you’re not going to get very far with your feet looking like minced meat! I’d offer you my shoes, but…” Gabrielle waved vaguely in the direction of her feet “my feet are tiny. I doubt they’d fit. I’ll just bandage you up for now and you can have my walking stick.”

“But you’re pregnant!” shouted Sima. “You’re going to need that stick.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just pregnant, not ill. I’ll be fine. You’re the one bleeding like a stuck pig.” Gabrielle had pulled out some more handkerchiefs, each of which must have cost a small fortune, and made a makeshift bandage for each of Sima’s feet. 

“See, that’s better!”

“They’ll get ruined,” Sima gasped. “Please, I can’t possibly accept this. I’m not worth half of one of those handkerchiefs!”

Gabrielle lifted her head and smiled sadly up at Sima: “Listen, I don’t need those handkerchiefs. They’re just leftovers from a life that isn’t mine anymore. What I need is someone to talk to and someone to just … keep me company.” She lowered her head again to finish bandaging Sima’s feet and muttered: “I don’t want to be out here alone when my baby gets here, okay?”

“I don’t know anything about babies, though, and I’m not good company,” whispered Sima.

“Let me decide whether you’re good company or not. I’m a big girl, I can make up my own mind.” Gabrielle’s smile had returned. “Do you think you’ll be able to walk on these?”

Sima got to her feet slowly and gingerly. The bandages were not exactly comfortable, but they offered some protection and already her feet seemed to be hurting much less. She nodded.

“Great! Now grab my stick with one hand and lean on me with the other. No, don’t argue. Do not argue. I’ll help you walk. We’ll be slow, but we’ll make it, don’t worry. I’d carry you if I could but I’m not strong enough to carry two children, sorry.”

Sima decided not to point out that she really wasn’t a child anymore. After all, Gabrielle had told her not to argue.

\-----------------------------

They progressed very slowly, but walking was no longer agony. Sima’s stomach was full and even though Gabrielle was a stranger - and a heavily pregnant stranger at that, hardly the person to fight off wild animals, bandits or, perish the thought, the witch of many mouths - Sima was no longer quite as terrified of what lay ahead.

By late afternoon, they were inside the forest. The ground here was soft and cold. It was heaven on Sima’s feet! Sunlight was glistening through the leaves, bathing everything in a beautiful green glow.

“If I walk even one more step, I am going to collapse!” Gabrielle said, eventually. “I’m sorry, Sima, but I need to rest.”

“Of course,” said Sima quickly. She had felt that way several hours back but hadn’t wanted to be a nuisance. She sank down on the moss next to Gabrielle.

“Want some more food?” asked Gabrielle, as she unpacked her bag.

“I’ve already eaten so much, the food won’t last until we reach a town at this rate!”

“Ah, there’s got to be a town somewhere past these woods, right? This place isn’t exactly a desert! People will have settled around here somewhere! There’s really no need to starve ourselves!”

“But your baby needs it more than …” Sima stopped mid-sentence and held her breath. She was sure she had heard something rustle very nearby. Gabrielle must have heard it, too, as she gave a tiny shriek.

“There’s got to be animals here, right?” she asked. She sounded terrified. “It’s animals. Nothing else. The witch only attacks people on the open road, right?”

“Maybe we should light a fire,” said Sima. “That’ll keep the animals away.”

“That’s a great idea,” replied Gabrielle and looked at her expectantly. 

“Erm, I … I’m sorry. I don’t really know how.” She had lit plenty of fires in her life, but only ever in her father’s fireplace, never on damp forest ground. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah, no worries, I can probably figure it out. I just thought you might want to do the honours.”

Gabrielle pulled herself up on her walking stick. Sima was just about to get up to help, but Gabrielle glared at her: “Sit! Rest! I can handle it. I’m pregnant, not frail!” 

While Sima sat there, stunned, Gabrielle briefly disappeared in the undergrowth and returned with firewood. By the time the last light was gone, a fire was crackling between them. It was small and weak and looked like it was about to go out, but it provided just enough light to make the forest seem a little safer.

“Thank you,” whispered Sima.

“Oh, don’t thank me. I know this is pathetic. But it’s all damp around here, I can’t seem to get it right. We should probably sleep in shifts. You can sleep first. No, don’t you dare say ‘but’!”

Sima didn’t dare object. She curled up by the fire and closed her eyes. She was exhausted and the forest floor was nice and soft, softer than the floor she slept on at home. The air was cold but the tiny fire warmed the front of her body. Now to drift off to sleep and forget for a moment that she had no idea what the next day would bring. 

But she couldn’t. She shouldn’t. What if Gabrielle’s baby came in the night? She had to help her, right? She didn’t know how, but she had to help her! After all, Gabrielle had helped her, too. And what if there were wild animals? What if the fire didn’t keep them away? And what if Gabrielle fell asleep? She was exhausted, she clearly needed it. Surely, she had overexerted herself, travelling in her state! If she didn’t get rest, maybe it would harm the baby!

Sima tried to focus on Gabrielle’s soft breathing, just to make sure everything was alright. In and out, in and out - she seemed just fine. But the wind was howling through the trees, making the leaves rustle. It was hard to focus. There! That rustle! That wasn’t the wind! Sima whirled around and opened her eyes. There, in the darkness! Glowing eyes! White sparkling teeth! 

Sima screamed: “Oh no, the witch!” … and awoke with a start. Gabrielle was leaning over her with concern on her face.

“Are you alright?”

Sima looked around. The daylight was completely gone now, the moon was hidden behind a wall of clouds and the tiny little fire was only just enough to light up Gabrielle’s face. It was eerie.

“Yeah.”

“You were screaming.”

“Nightmare. I think.” Sima looked around, even though there was nothing to look at. There weren’t any glowing eyes in the dark, nor glowing teeth.

“Can’t blame you. This isn’t really the nicest place to sleep. But the witch won’t get us here, don’t worry. We’re not on the open road.” Gabrielle sounded much less sure than her words implied.

“You’re probably right,” replied Sima. “I guess I’m awake now, so you can sleep.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t. You still look exhausted.”

“I feel fine!”

“Well, I’m not tired at all. Go back to … wait, what was that?” Gabrielle scooted closer to Sima and grabbed her arm.

Just behind Sima’s back, there was a rustle of leaves and a cracking of branches. It sounded like something big was moving through the forest. Sima’s breath caught in her lungs as she whirled around. Gabrielle made a grab for her walking stick, the only weapon they had between the two of them.

“They don’t have bears here, do they?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been away from home before,” whispered Sima.

“Whatever that is, that’s pretty big.”

“Maybe it’s just a deer or …” 

Just then, an eerie glow lit up the area around them. Dozens of little lights shimmered through the leaves. Eyes!

A little shriek escaped from Gabrielle’s lips. She tried to pull herself up on the walking stick but fell again. Sima jumped up and pulled on Gabrielle’s arms: “Oh gods, we’ve got to go! We’ve got to run!”

Gabrielle was sobbing now: “It’s the witch! It’s the witch!” 

“Get up! Please!”

The eyes were getting closer. Any moment now, they would see the teeth glinting in the dark and then it would all be over.

“I don’t want to die,” sobbed Gabrielle. Finally, finally, she managed to get to her feet. 

They were stumbling backwards, half-blind, tripping over branches and sinking into moss and mud. And the eyes had almost reached them now. Sima closed her eyes. If she was going to be devoured, she didn’t want to see what was coming. 

“Hey! Stop! Wait!” A voice sounded in the darkness. Was the witch trying to trick them? 

Sima opened her eyes again. The glowing spots in the darkness were within arm’s reach now and somehow no longer looked like eyes. She thought she could make out a face just behind them. One single face.

“Gabrielle,” she whispered, “I don’t think that’s the witch.”

“You think?” said the voice, coming closer. 

Sima could see its source now: There was a woman in the darkness, holding an odd-looking lamp. It had a cloth covering, but holes had been cut into it in an intricate pattern, creating what Sima and Gabrielle had mistaken for eyes. The woman herself was wearing a long coat and her face looked somehow odd. Not quite human. Maybe it was the pattern of light that made it look like that.

Sima watched as Gabrielle slowly lowered the arm she had raised to protect her face and peeked cautiously at the woman in the darkness.

“No, that’s not the witch.”

“Yeah, thanks for figuring that out,” said the woman sarcastically. “You two aren’t exactly beauties yourself! Gods above, below and beside, what are you two doves even doing here?” 

“We’re travellers,” answered Gabrielle. 

The stranger looked at her for a moment, then her jaw dropped.

“What?”

“You’re … very pregnant.”

“Yes, so what of it?”

“We’re in a forest. It’s the middle of the night.”

“I told you. We’re travellers. We couldn’t exactly stay out on the open road, what with the witch of many mouths.”

“You believe in that giant pile of horse … oh, nevermind. May I sit?”

“Huh? … yes, yes, sure.” Gabrielle sank back down to the ground and patted the spot next to her. The stranger let herself drop to the ground and sat there, legs crossed. Her coat fell open a little to reveal a red dress, richly embroidered with white thread, but unlike Gabrielle’s clothing it looked not just soiled by travelling but old and worn. 

The woman set down her lamp and lifted its cloth covering, illuminating the surroundings. Her face still looked eerie, but now Sima could tell why: Her lips, her cheeks and her eyelids seemed to be - painted? How odd! She had seen painted walls, of course, and even painted canvas once, when the daughter of the richest man in town had decided she would paint by the town well. But faces?

“What’s with the ogling?” asked the stranger.

Sima immediately turned her head and mumbled: “Sorry.”

“I’m not bothered. Used to being stared at. Just not usually with quite such a deep frown.”

“I just didn’t know you could use paint on your face,” mumbled Sima.

The stranger gave a shriek of mirth so loud that Sima flinched. 

“Oh, you’re adorable,” she said, laughing. 

Sima felt herself go red. 

“Oh, that’s enough,” snapped Gabrielle. “You’re being really mean, making fun of her. She’s never left her little town before this. She’s probably never even heard of … of … someone like you.”

“A whore, you mean?” asked the woman.

Gabrielle gasped. “You can’t call yourself that!”

“Oh, like you weren’t thinking it!”

“I wasn’t. I was going to say ‘paid companion’. That word is so crude.”

The stranger grinned: “You’re saying my profession isn’t?”

“You do what you have to!”

Sima had no idea what was going on and the strong suspicion that most of this conversation was going right over her head. Of course she knew what a ‘whore’ was. She’d heard that word used plenty throughout the years, hissed by gossipping women at the well or shouted by her father when he had, once again, been rejected by one of the rosy young women in town. But what did that insult have to do with the woman in front of them?

“You look very confused,” said the stranger, smiling. “Men pay me to fuck them.”

Gabrielle’s mouth fell open. “Must you be so crude? She probably doesn’t even know what that means!”

“I do know what that means,” protested Sima. “I just didn’t know people did that!”

“Well, dove, no need to feel bad. Your companion here isn’t exactly as worldly as she wants to make herself seem. You were both shouting about witches a moment ago. I might not be as beautiful as I once was, but I’m hardly the witch of many mouths. They call me Milou, by the way.”

“And what do you call yourself?” asked Gabrielle.

“I don’t tend to talk to myself.”

“Oh, very funny.” 

Milou’s lamp illuminated the scene just enough for Sima to see Gabrielle roll her eyes. 

“I’m Sima,” Sima said, before Milou could respond.

“Gabrielle. Pleased to meet you.” Gabrielle didn’t look at all pleased. Quite to the contrary, she seemed very disgruntled, but Milou ignored that with a smile and returned the compliments: “Pleased to meet you, too. Though it is a rather unlikely place to meet anyone.”

She made a show of looking around the dark forest.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up here?”

“We were travelling and needed to get off the road,” said Gabrielle, sounding quite curt.

“Travelling? You’re not lost, are you?”

For some reason, Milou’s face despite all its false lines and unnatural colours made Sima want to trust her and before she knew it, she was spreading out their story in front of the older woman. “Well, we never really knew where we were headed. I just left. I wasn’t thinking much when I did.”

“Looks like you had your reasons,” whispered Milou, waving at Sima’s face.

“And Gabrielle got kicked out of her town, she didn’t really have the choice to make a plan.”

“Kicked out!” gasped Milou. “In your state! That’s monstrous!” Sima wasn’t sure, but she had a hunch that Milou wasn’t faking her shock.

“They kicked me out because of my state,” growled Gabrielle. “They’re not monsters. They just don’t understand love. They thought we would corrupt them, so they called me a … well … a whore and they made me leave.” 

Milou snorted bitterly. “They call me a whore and they invite me in. That’s men for you. You can’t trust them. They’ll only treat you well as long as they get to fuck you.”

Gabrielle’s head whipped around to Milou and she snarled, literally snarled, at the older woman like an angry dog. Sima backed away slightly.

“You have no clue what you’re talking about,” Gabrielle shouted so loudly that Sima could not help but flinch, even though Gabrielle’s anger was not directed at her. 

The person it was directed at, on the other hand, merely raised her oddly black eyebrows in disbelief: “Sore spot?”

“None of your business. And don’t act like I’m a naive little child. You don’t have an inkling of how wrong you are.”

“No offense, but seeing a heavily pregnant woman out at night in the middle of a forest with the father of the kid nowhere in sight isn’t exactly making me change my mind.”

“He didn’t have a choice. He loved me!” Gabrielle shouted. Then, in a slightly smaller voice, she whispered: “He loved me.”

“Then where is he? Why isn’t he with you?” said Milou almost aggressively.

But even before Gabrielle answered, Sima knew what her answer would be. It was obvious. Why couldn’t Milou see? Why couldn’t she be quiet?

“He’s not with me because he’s dead!” snapped Gabrielle. “My father killed him, if you must know. I tried to keep our secret, but my father followed me to our meeting spot and there he killed him. And then they banished me. I’d shamed them. My family. My town. They would’ve had to kill me, too, but he couldn’t do it. My father … he refused. He just sent me away. My love would be here if he could! He gave everything for me! Everything! And now he’s dead and I’m here listening to you bad-mouthing him and you’re a horrible, horrible …”

Gabrielle’s voice cracked. Tears were streaming freely down her face now. She noticed Sima staring at her and turned away.

Sima was left awkwardly glancing back and forth between the two older women. What was she expected to say now? Was she supposed to say anything at all? She almost wished she was home with her father again. At least she knew what her choices were when he got angry: Duck and hide and hope the storm blew over fast or else bear it and patch herself up as best she could once he was finished. But here - who even knew?

Milou, who had only moments ago looked so self-assured, was now looking as awkward as Sima felt. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, she sighed and broke the silence: “Gabrielle.”

“What?” snapped Gabrielle.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Okay, I did mean to hurt you. I haven’t had the best of days and I was trying to pick a fight, but that’s not important. I was being awful and I’m sorry.”

Gabrielle peeked up from her folded arms. 

“I am genuinely sorry about what happened to you.”

For a moment, Milou fell silent and looked away as Gabrielle wiped the tears from her eyes. 

Sima breathed a sigh of relief - a sigh that got stuck in her throat when Milou spoke up again.  
“I want to help you, if I can.”

“We don’t need your help,” snapped Gabrielle. “We were doing perfectly well on our own.”

“I mean no offence, but really,” Milou’s voice was tinged with some impatience now. “Look at yourselves and then tell me again that you’re doing well. The middle of the woods is no place for a waif and a pregnant woman. You could die out here!”

“You’re in the middle of the woods,” Gabrielle said. “You’re one to lecture us!”

“Yes, I am in the middle of the woods,” said Milou in a tone that Sima had heard plenty of times from ladies in the village who thought she must be stupid just because her father didn’t let her speak to anyone. “I am also not pregnant nor am I slight enough to be blown away by a mid-sized storm. Also, I was,” Milou sighed, “I was hiding from a mob, if you must know. Woods tend to be a good place for that.”

Gabrielle looked up and snorted: “Hiding from a mob? I thought people invite you in?”

“They do. At least the men do. Until their wives catch us in the act and then they claim that I bewitched them. Apparently that’s easier to believe than that I’m just a woman trying to make a living and their husband is a horny toad by nature, no magic involved.”

“They’re not going to follow you in here, are they?” Sima asked, listening for any voices nearby. But all she could hear was the hooting of owls in the distance.

“I’d be surprised. They’ll get a few feet in, get lost, decide I’ve been eaten by bears and call it a day.”

“There’s bears in here?” gasped Sima.

“No, just bunnies and birds. The animals here are harmless.”

“Then how come you are oh so very concerned about us?” asked Gabrielle.

“The woods are a maze, that’s why. You could easily get lost and starve to death in here if you don’t know your way around. Honestly, I’m surprised you made it this far in without getting turned around.”

“We were following those!” Sima pointed at one of the footprints, which she could only just make out in the glimmer of Milou’s lamp.

“What?” Milou lifted her lamp closer to where Sima was pointing. The footprint was now clearly visible and oddly enough, the blood was shimmering in the light.

“That’s odd,” whispered Gabrielle.

“So you’re telling me you followed a bunch of bloody footprints here - why again?”

“We were wondering whose they were,” said Gabrielle.

“Yeah, that is odd.” 

“No, that’s not what I meant. Look. They look like whoever left them only just walked through here. But we’ve been here for hours!”

Gabrielle was right. The blood was still wet. A shiver ran down Sima’s spine, making her muscles tense. 

“What if it’s the witch?” she whispered.

“Not the blasted witch again. Listen, I know those stories and they are absolute horse shit. Some old fart probably made them up half a century ago to stop women from travelling alone and here you are, shivering in a forest, seeing her behind every tree.”

“I know people who’ve seen her!”

“You keep panicking like you are and I’m sure you’ll be seeing all kinds of things before the night is over. You thought I was the witch.”

“Then how do you explain those footprints if you’re so clever.”

Milou fell silent as she stared at the footprints with a frown. 

“You’re sure you weren’t just asleep and missed someone?”

“Completely sure.”

Milou tilted her head to one side, then the other. She looked a little like the stray dog that Sima had secretly fed a bit of sausage last winter. Eventually she gave a shrug.

“No, I’ve got nothing.”

“See?”

“That doesn’t mean that a witch is involved, especially not one of many mouths. But...” Milou fell silent again.

“But what?”

“But you probably won’t stop panicking about witches until we figure out what’s going on.”

Gabrielle looked like she was about to retort something, but Milou cut her off before she could say a word: “And I want to know what’s going on, too! We should keep following the footprints tomorrow when the sun comes up.”

“Hold on one minute.” Gabrielle shook her head. “Just now you were going on about how odd it was we’d been following these footprints and besides, don’t you think your ‘we’ is just a tiny bit presumptuous.”

Milou looked at Gabrielle in silence for a moment, then she sighed: “I’m sorry. I haven’t exactly made the best first impression, have I? I can understand why you don’t like me. I really want to help, but if you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

“I like her, though!” said Sima and immediately flinched. What had she been thinking? Why on earth had she said that? “I just mean, she knows her way around here and we don’t,” she said, turning to Gabrielle, then immediately turned back to Milou, “not that I wouldn’t say the same thing if you didn’t. I just mean…” But she couldn’t explain what she had meant to say. The words kept getting stuck in her throat and maybe she had upset both of them! They certainly looked upset! Oh, why had she not just stayed silent! She should have known better! Muscles tense, hands at the ready to protect her face, she waited for the inevitable blow to fall.

It didn’t.

“Oh, Sima, I’m sorry,” Gabrielle cried, just as Milou gave another sigh: “Oh, I can’t watch. Dove, I’m not upset. Please. Calm down.”

“Alright, alright, she can stay with us, just please, relax,” Gabrielle said. “You can stay with us, Milou. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Will you stop growling at me if I take watch so you can sleep?”

“That is definitely not happening. What if you rob us blind and disappear?”

“Suit yourself,” Milou said with a shrug and curled up on the moss around her lamp, dimming its light. 

She was fast asleep and snoring before Sima had even managed to close her eyes.

\-----------------------------

Had Sima not been startled awake by Gabrielle softly touching her hair, she would have sworn she had not slept a minute. She felt like a horse had trampled her in her sleep. 

Moaning, she struggled to get to her feet. It was early morning and the sun was just beginning to break through the leaves. The bloody footprints were still there and so was Milou, holding her now extinguished lamp in one hand, a small bundle of her possessions in the other and clearly rearing to go.

Gabrielle was still sitting next to Sima. But something was wrong! She was pale as death and sweat was dripping down her face.

“Are you … alright?”

“Yes, yes, of course I am. Don’t you worry.” She was smiling but it looked like someone was forcibly pulling up the sides of her mouth. “Just hand me my cane, please, will you?”

But Gabrielle seemed to be struggling a lot more than yesterday, even with the cane. Sima jumped to her feet - hiding a wince as her still-raw soles hit the ground - and tried to help her companion up.

“I suppose we’ll have to keep following those footprints! Well, no use wasting time, let’s go!” said Gabrielle in a forced cheerful voice. 

“Sure, but let me just …” Milou offered a shoulder but Gabrielle glared at her until she dropped her arm.

“No, you just walk ahead!”

“Uhm, Gabrielle, maybe we should let her help. I’m not very strong and I don’t think…”

“I will be - just - fine,” said Gabrielle through gritted teeth. “Stop worrying about me and focus on walking.”

Sima did as she was told and walked slightly ahead, but not without throwing a glance back over her shoulder every so often. She was walking with a slow limp next to Milou, who had slowed her own pace to match hers.

“You should keep an eye on your friend,” she whispered to Sima. “I don’t like the look of her, she’s much too pregnant to be travelling, she should be resting. She’ll damage the baby.”

“Do you know about babies?”

“No more than your average woman. Unless you want to know how to get rid of them before you end up in her state, I can tell you about that.”

“What?”

“Nevermind. We’ll just need to find a place for her to rest and then you’re going to have to tell her to sit her backside down, because she won’t listen to me, alright?”

“I don’t…”

“Yes, you do,” said Milou before Sima had even figured out what she was going to say, but the message was clear. She lowered her head and started tracking the footprints.

“I haven’t actually been in this part of the forest. I hope your trail leads somewhere good.”

Sima couldn’t help but snort. “Somewhere good? It’s a trail of bloody footprints that won’t dry,” she pointed out.

“You have a point. It doesn’t make sense and it’s creepy. Still, if there’s some sort of vengeful spirit haunting these woods, I’d like to know now and not once we’ve gone our separate ways and it starts stalking me. I wouldn’t blame you if you and your friend decided to leave now, though.”

Sima looked over her shoulder. Even though they were walking so slowly, Gabrielle had fallen further behind. She was panting and groaning and her face had taken on a green tinge. 

“We can’t leave! I don’t know what to do!” Sima said. 

“Hey, I told you, neither do … oh, hey, that’s a proper path over there! Look!”

It was true. The footprints had led them out of the depths of the forest and onto what looked like an old trail that seemed to be coming out of nowhere. It was half-overgrown and far from what Sima herself would have termed ‘a proper path’ but clearly, people had travelled here at some point in the past. The footprints were leading right down the path into the distance.

“Gabrielle!” 

Gabrielle had stopped now. She was doubled over, leaning heavily on her walking stick. Sima limped back to where she was standing.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Gabrielle lifted her head and tried to smile but only one corner of her mouth lifted slightly and immediately dropped again: “I think I might need a hand after all.”

“Of course!”

When Gabrielle put her weight on Sima’s shoulder, Sima had to bite back a cry. Gods, she was heavy! She struggled forward a few steps, but Gabrielle was weighing her down like a ton of rocks and her feet felt wet, like they were bleeding again. Sima pushed forward but her knees wouldn’t take it anymore. She swayed for a moment, but just as she was about to fall hard and take Gabrielle with her, a hand pushed itself between her shoulder and Gabrielle’s arm and Gabrielle’s weight was lifted. 

“Alright, I know you don’t like me and don’t trust me and it’s probably all my fault, but you clearly need all the help you can get, so this horseshit stops and it stops right now or so help me.”

Gabrielle stared at Milou with her mouth wide open, but she said nothing. Maybe she didn’t know what to say or maybe she was just too weak for a fight.

“Lean on me,” Milou told her.

“Bu…”

A single glare from Milou made Gabrielle’s mouth snap shut. She shifted her weight from her cane to Milou’s shoulder. Milou turned her head to face Sima, who could not help but flinch, even though Milou’s hands were clearly far too occupied to throw a punch or anything else at her.

“W-what do we do?” Sima stammered.

“For now, we continue following those footprints. I’m hoping we’ll find somewhere she can rest that isn’t the middle of a damp, dark forest.”

“It … it doesn’t really look like there’s a town at the end of this,” Sima said, careful not to make it sound like an accusation. “I mean, I don’t really know, but it doesn’t really look like people have been here recently. Except…”

Except for, of course, the footprints. Sima wished she had never begun to follow them. They had given her hope just yesterday. Now they were sending shivers down her spine every time she looked at them. 

“If we turn back, we definitely won’t make it to a town,” said Milou, through gritted teeth. “She’s not going to last that long.”

“I … am … just…” But what came out of Gabrielle’s mouth in place of ‘fine’ was a deep groan and suddenly Sima’s feet felt wet from the top, too. She looked down to see a puddle of water, mixing with the blood of the strange footprints and her own.

“FUCK!” yelled Milou, as Gabrielle gave a whimper.

“I … need to stop … can’t … it’s coming …”

“Alright, if you can’t walk, we’ll just have to make due. Just lie down here and …”

A loud clap of thunder interrupted Milou.

“Oh, are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Milou yelled, shaking the fist of her free hand at the cloud-darkened sky beyond the thinning foliage.

Sima flinched.

“I’m sorry, dove, but you can’t have your baby out here in the middle of a storm. Give it another half hour and we’ll be ducking flying branches out here. We have to find shelter.”

Gabrielle groaned in response. She was barely standing at all now and Milou was visibly straining trying to hold her up.

“C-can I help?” Sima stammered.

“Can you run?”

“I … I don’t know.” She did know, though, but didn’t dare to say. Her feet were still sending pulses of throbbing pain through her body. Running would be agony. 

“Can you try and scout ahead to look for shelter? Don’t go too far. Just … urgh, there has got to be something nearby. This path wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t anything nearby!”

Everything Milou said sounded like a desperate question, posed to herself or maybe some higher power above. Gabrielle gave another groan of pain. And Sima ran.

Every time her feet hit the ground, daggers pierced her soles. Gabrielle’s footwraps had come off Sima’s feet sometime back, she didn’t know when, and she was running barefoot again. The pain was making it nearly impossible to keep going. Sima’s vision was blurring now. Through the black that was closing in on her, tighter and tighter every minute, she could still make out the bright red footprints on the path. The rain had started falling, thick as string. Within minutes Sima was soaked through to the skin. But the footprints were not washed away. They terrified her but what could she do? There was only one way forward and if she couldn’t find any shelter, what would happen to Gabrielle and her baby? She had to keep going. Had to. No matter the pain. No matter the storm. Had to.

There! In the distance! Sima could barely believe her eyes. In the distance, the ruins of a large building were shimmering, blood red, through the rain. And the prints were leading right up to that building. In fact, the building looked like it had been painted in wet blood. She had to be dreaming! Surely, she had fainted and was caught in some horrible feverish nightmare. 

But the pain in her feet was too strong for a dream! Sima rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. But the building was still there, as bright red as before. And there was nothing else in sight. No town. Not even a lonely shed. Nothing but the blood-red ruins. There was nothing for it.

“MILOU! GABRIELLE! I’VE FOUND SOMETHING!”

Hoping against hope that her voice would carry through the rain, Sima ran back, screaming all the while.

A large red and blue blur on the path made her stop in her tracks. There were the two women, lying in a heap on the wet ground.

“Oh no!” 

Shakily, Sima approached. A high-pitched scream made her jump and gasp.

“Sima?”

“Milou! What happened?”

“She fell and pulled me down with her. We’re okay, but she’s not doing well. Not well at all.”

“I found shelter!”

“Oh, thank the gods! I love you, dove! Now come help me here, I can’t pull her up on my own.”

Sima hobbled to where the older women lay. She crouched down and put her arm under Gabrielle’s.

“On three. One, two, LIFT!”

Sima gave it her all, but Gabrielle was barely conscious and her legs were practically useless. Sima’s own legs were screaming with pain.

“Gabrielle! Please! Work with us here!” Milou begged. “Please, dove! Just for a few minutes! There’s shelter nearby!”

That seemed to have gotten through to Gabrielle. Her legs were suddenly pushing against the ground. Weakly, but Sima and Milou exchanged a relieved smile across her shoulders.

\-----------------------------

As they dragged Gabrielle, moaning and crying, toward the red building, Sima kept wondering whether she had just imagined it all. There seemed to be no other signs of human life anywhere in sight. And if it had just been her imagination, what would they do?

The storm kept getting stronger. Just a minute ago, a small branch had flown out of nowhere and scratched the face of Milou, who hadn’t managed to duck in time. She claimed she was alright, but blood was dripping freely down her cheeks and into her half-opened mouth. She was spitting pink rainwater every few seconds.

Finally, finally, the building appeared in the distance. 

“You can see it, right?” Sima shouted over the gale.

“It’s hard to miss!” Milou shouted back. Sima gave a sigh of relief, as Milou yelled: “Who the hell painted that place? It looks gruesome! … Nevermind, let’s get inside.”

Up close, the ruins looked imposing. It was taller than anything Sima had ever seen before and despite its run-down appearance, there was an air of lost splendour about it, almost like it had been a palace - once, a lifetime ago.

Sima hesitated at the doorway. Should they really enter? This place was creepy. And the footprints - yes, the footprints were leading right inside!

Gabrielle screamed in agony. Her knees gave way again.

“COME ON! Stop dreaming, child, we have to get her inside!”

With the very last ounce of energy within her, Sima helped drag Gabrielle across the threshold, lowered her down on the stone floor and immediately collapsed next to her.

Milou, too, had fallen to the ground, but a split second later she was crawling across the ground and pulled herself up on what looked like a stone table in the centre of the room, leaving two imprints where her blood-stained fingers had touched the stone.

“Come on, no time to rest now, let’s get her out of the doorway.”

Sima and Milou hoisted Gabrielle onto the table.

“Thank…” She groaned. Her face was white as a sheet and Sima guessed that her beautiful dress would have been soaked with sweat even on a dry day. She looked flushed and feverish. Sima wasn’t feeling too well herself. She couldn’t stop shivering and her head was aching badly now.

“I wish we could warm up somehow,” muttered Milou between chattering teeth, as she fumbled with her lamp. “This won’t be enough.”

“There!”

A few steps behind the table, Sima had spotted two large stone bowls which, judging by the remains of ashes within them, had at one point held flames.

“What is this place?” mumbled Milou, as she approached the bowls.

Sima looked around. There were odd patterns on the wall. Together with the stone table and the bowls it reminded her of something … she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but a familiar chant had started up in her head … yes, of course!

“A temple?”

“Huh?”

“It looks like the temple in our town. Just bigger. I’m probably wrong, though, I’ve only been there once.”

“No, you’re right, it looks like a temple. But who’d build a temple out here. We are miles from any…”

Milou’s musings were cut short by the agonised howl escaping Gabrielle.

“Oh, nevermind now, I’ll try to get us some proper fire and you go help her.”

“B-but I don’t know what to do!” Sima cried. “I’ve never even been at a birth.”

“It can’t be that hard, right? Women have been giving birth for millennia and been perfectly fine!” Milou responded, bent over one of the stone bowls. Her voice echoed eerily.

“I killed my mum when I was born,” muttered Sima.

“That is not what I needed to hear right now, dove!” Milou’s voice was so high-pitched now that Sima could only barely make out what she was saying.

Sima climbed on top of the stone table and crouched next to Gabrielle to dab at her brow with the wet sleeve of her dress. Sima would not have been surprised to see steam rising from Gabrielle’s forehead. Her companion was burning up. 

“A-am I supposed to …” She was going to ask ‘pull the baby out’ but it sounded so silly in her head that she just trailed off. Besides, Milou wasn’t even listening. She was still busy trying to get a fire going.

Slowly, as gently as she could with every muscle still tense and shivering, Sima pushed up Gabrielle’s skirt. She gasped. She hadn’t expected that much blood…

“YES! Finally!”

Split seconds after Milou’s triumphant voice, a warm glow reached Sima, making her muscles relax just a little bit, just enough to stop the painful, relentless shivering. Her head turned, unbidden, in Milou’s direction.

No. No, it couldn’t be. Her mind was definitely playing tricks on her now. 

“M-Milou?”

“Yes?”

“C-can you look up for a moment?”

Milou pulled her head from the second stone bowl, still unlit, and looked around. And screamed.

Now Sima knew she wasn’t dreaming. If Milou could see it, it must be there. It was a large figure, standing in the dim light of the flame, its eyes glinting with reflections of the fire. Many. So many eyes. Its teeth gnashing in dozens and dozens of mouths.

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no,” Milou kept whispering and backing away. 

“We’re not even on the open road,” whimpered Sima. It was a silly thing to say, but as she tried to help the half-conscious, bleeding Gabrielle off the stone table, it was all that she could think about. It wasn’t fair. They’d only just found shelter! And now they would be torn to bits by the many maws of the witch. They would, because Gabrielle wasn’t moving and Sima and Milou might be able to run, but they couldn’t just leave Gabrielle! Milou, too, was now trying to heave Gabrielle off the table.

Then Gabrielle, in a moment of lucidity, turned her head, saw the witch and her moans of pain turned to screams of terror.

“We have to get out of here! NOW!” shouted Milou.

But the witch was approaching slowly, stepping into the light cast by the stone bowl fire. Sima froze. The figure was terrifying, for sure: Towering over them at twice a man’s height, with only two feet but dozens and dozens of arms and heads, it was a sight straight out of Sima’s worst nightmares. 

Except, in Sima’s nightmares, she would not have looked into her own eyes blinking back at her from several faces. Not just hers, though - there were Milou’s and Gabrielle’s faces, too, staring at the real Milou and Gabrielle in … concern? And there were dozens of other women’s faces, looking not hungry, like Sima had expected, but equally concerned.

In unison, the faces opened their mouths and a many-voiced plea, melodious like a choir’s song, reached Sima’s ears: “Do not be afraid. Stay. Please.”

The eerie melody of the voices did nothing to quell Sima’s fear, but she could not have moved if she had wanted to. Her feet were rooted to the floor with exhaustion, terror and - now - wonder.

Milou, too, was standing stock still. Her mouth had fallen open as she stared at her own face among the multitude.

The witch’s mouths opened again as she approached closer, step by step, but this time Sima couldn’t make out what she was saying. It was a cacophony of different voices. It was like walking into a crowded inn on a holiday. Except when she did that, conversation usually stopped within seconds. The witch, however, kept talking and talking, seemingly repeating the same words, over and over again. 

Sima’s eyes darted back and forth between the different faces, so human despite everything and yet, somehow, ever-shifting. Every time she tried to make out how many faces there were, the number seemed to change. Finally, her eyes came to rest on one of her own faces and now she thought she could make out her own voice - no, voices - in the din. Gradually, bit by bit, the words began to make sense.

“Daughter whose blood has blessed my temple, hated for the crime of being a girl, I have been hated, too, let me guide your hands.” Over and over she was saying those same words, a plea in her many voices. And beyond her own chorus, Sima could now make out what Milou’s and Gabrielle’s faces were saying, too.

“Sister whose blood has blessed my temple, hated for the crime of surviving, I have been hated, too, let me guide your hands.”

“Mother whose blood has blessed my temple, hated for the crime of loving, I have been hated, too, let me guide your womb.”

Unable to speak, shaking not from cold now, but from the shivers running down her back, Sima finally nodded. 

She had barely moved her head when the witch was suddenly behind her, reaching around her to grab her arms. Sima flinched, expecting pain, but there was none. The witch’s touch was warm and soft, comforting somehow. She could not remember ever having been touched like this before. Tears sprang to her eyes, though she couldn’t understand why.

The witch began to move Sima’s hands across Gabrielle’s body, stroking, feeling. Sima did not know what she was doing, but the witch seemed to and Sima trusted her. She could not help it. Her touch was the most beautiful thing she had ever experienced. 

Next to her, Milou’s hands had wrapped around Gabrielle’s wrist and her head was nodding along with what seemed to be Gabrielle’s heartbeat. The expression on her face was pure bliss. Gabrielle, too, had stopped screaming. She was breathing heavily, but underneath the pain that was still reflected in her face, Sima could now make out something else. Trust. Calm. The fear had disappeared.

As Sima’s hands flew across Gabrielle’s body, then carefully entered her, prodding, feeling, aiding, like an experienced midwife, she let herself sink fully into the witch’s touch.

\-----------------------------

A cry tore Sima from her trance. It took her a second to realise where she was. Hadn’t she just been back in the womb, floating in a warmth and safety that she had never experienced in life?

She looked down at her hands and her eyes widened. In her arms, there was a tiny baby, covered in blood, bawling its lungs out. 

“G-gabrielle?”

Gabrielle lifted her head, with the help of Milou, who, too, looked like she had just woken from a deep sleep.

“Y-you have a daughter. A … a beautiful baby daughter.”

Sima could feel tears pooling in her eyes and blinked furiously. She wanted to see this clearly. She wanted to marvel at every inch of that tiny being in her arms.

“She is perfect,” mumbled Milou. “I’ve never seen anything so perfect.” 

“I know,” breathed Gabrielle.

“Do - do you want to hold her?”

“Yes, please.”

Carefully, Sima place the child on her mother’s chest. They both looked so fragile. So peaceful. But they were going to survive. Both of them. All four of them. Sima couldn’t have said why she was so certain, but she simply knew.

She could not stop staring at the tiny infant, now snuggled up to her mother, breathing softly. She was surprised, but oddly enough not the least bit scared, when a multitude of hands placed themselves, softly, gently, on the tiny form. When Sima looked up at the witch’s many faces, she saw that every single one was smiling.

And again, the witch opened her mouths and once more her voices echoed through the temple, but now in unison again:  
“Child whose birth has blessed my temple, hated for the crime of living, I have been hated, too, let me guide your life. You shall be mine and I shall be yours.”

“She’s not a witch, is she? She’s a goddess…” Sima whispered to Milou.

“You don’t say,” Milou breathed in response, her face full of awe.

The goddess turned her heads toward Milou and Sima and smiled at them. Sima gulped. Nobody had ever smiled at her like that, with so much warmth and kindness. Nobody except maybe Gabrielle.

“Goddess, was it your footprints that led us here?” asked Milou. 

Dozens of heads nodded in response, a kind smile on every single face.

Sima’s head was full of questions. Why now? Why them? What could they possibly do for a goddess?

The goddess laid one of her many arms around Sima’s shoulder: “You will be my messengers. But first, you will rest.”

“And after?” asked Milou, still gaping.

“Don’t be rude. She’s a goddess!” hissed Sima. What if she thought they were questioning her wisdom?

But the many heads just continued to smile. 

“Look.”

Some of her uncountable hands pointed to one of the temple walls. It had a complicated pattern on it that was now illuminated by the fire crackling in both of the stone bowls. Sima tilted her head left and right to make out what it was, but it was Milou who understood first: “It’s a map, isn’t it?”

Sima slid off the stone table and approached. She still couldn’t make sense of it.

“This,” said the dozens of voices, “is where I found you, my daughter.” An arm pointed to a spot near a cluster of small triangles that, Sima supposed, had to be houses. Her town. It felt odd to realise she had only left it yesterday, it felt so far away. 

The goddess dragged her finger along the map to another cluster of triangles. In the midst of it was a red circle. 

“Is that where we are?”

“Yes,” said the dozens of voices.

“But there’s no town here.”

“There was,” responded the voices and the sadness in them hung so thick in the air that for a moment Sima felt like she couldn’t breathe. “There will be again. With your aid.”

“What do we do?” asked Sima. “Whatever it is…”

“Bring them here.” 

“Them?”

“Those that are like you,” said the many voices. Sima looked up at the heads. There were so many, uncountable, they seemed to be shifting in and out of existence as she watched, but every single one was a woman’s or girl’s face. There were grandmothers and little girls, faces painted like Milou’s or dirtied with labour, scarred and jaded or soft and fragile like a porcelain doll. Sima thought she might have even spotted a baby. 

“Bring them here. Together, we shall be reborn and grow strong as this child will go strong,” the goddess pointed at Gabrielle’s baby, now fast asleep just like Gabrielle herself. “And we will heal each other’s wounds.”

Sima looked at the faces. A warmth was filling her, running through her from her centre to her very fingertips and she realised, with a start, that this must be what it felt like to have family, to be alone no more. With determination in her face, she nodded.


End file.
